"Get away, man," said Robbie. "What is it to us though the bailie
gave her a dozen sixpences? He'd have given it to any of us if we'd
been at the head of the class."

The discussion upon Thora ended here, and we continued our walk in
comparative silence.

Willie Hercus was waiting for us when we reached the hill of
Yeskenaby. Hercus was a barefooted, red-haired boy, with gray eyes
that were almost hidden in the fatness of his cheeks, and totally
so when he laughed, as he invariably did on the least provocation.
His brow and nose were covered with brown freckles, like a turkey's
egg; and he wore a large sea jacket that had belonged to his
father, one of the crew of the Curlew.

We walked leisurely along the brink of the Black Craigs--a line of
steep cliffs bordering the western portion of the Mainland. At
times a hoodie crow would fly across our path, or the red grouse be
startled from their nests in the freshly-budding heather; and sea
fowl in large numbers sailed gracefully over our heads or deep down
the cliffs, making the chasms echo with their ceaseless screaming.

We made no attempt to kill or capture any of the birds. One bird,
however, we did take, and that more by accident than intention. It
happened this way:

My dog was trotting before us, with her nose to the ground, when
suddenly she made a run through the short heather after a lapwing,
which was, or pretended to be, unable to fly. I think it was trying
to decoy the dog away from its nest. As we watched the chase, Tom